Masters of Confusion
by GoGirl212
Summary: Lessons come in many forms when you're learning to be a Musketeer. Set early S1. Entry to the September Fete des Mousquetaires contest with the theme Confusion. Check out the forum for more stories and don't forget to vote at the end of the month for your favorite.


**Masters of Confusion**

Porthos looked across the table at D'Artagnan. His entire posture was that of eagerness and anticipation. His face was serious, his eyes bright. His breathing was steady and calm, but everything about the young musketeer recruit spoke to an intense energy coiled like a spring in a clockwork. Porthos gave his young companion a knowing, secretive smile that D'Artagnan returned with a determined nod of his head.

Porthos laid the deck of cards on the table. "It's called Queen's Delight," he said quietly, with a glance around as if checking for eavesdroppers, "You will be a true gambler if you can master this."

D'Artagnan nodded with a loud exhale, "I'm ready," he rubbed his palms against his thighs under the table, "Let's do it," By all accounts, his expression was identical to one that he wore just before they made a wild move to turn the tide in a battle.

Aramis appeared at the table with three cups of wine and the rest of the bottle tucked under his arm. He handed them round, then placed a hand to D'Artagnan's shoulder. "For the love of Lady Luck," he toasted, raising his cup.

"For luck," Porthos and D'Artagnan intoned, then all three took a deep swallow. D'Artagnan put down his goblet and Aramis quickly added some more to his cup as he gave Porthos a sly wink.

"The stakes," Porthos said seriously, emptying a bag of livre on the table beside him as if he were engaging a sacred ritual. D'Artagnan's eyes grew wide.

"That's easily twenty livre," he sputtered, "Can't we just . . . "

Porthos cut him off, "Ahhhh. No, no, no," he chided, "You know how this works. If the stakes aren't high enough, neither is your concentration," Porthos gave D'Artagnan a knowing and friendly nod. This was not the first time he had tutored their young protégé in cards and he had set this rule early on. D'Artagnan had paid for a lot of Porthos's wine with his losses under Porthos's tutelage. Porthos looked at D'Artagnan expectantly and was gratified when the boy finally reached into his pocket to pull out his purse. He gave D'Artagnan an approving smile as the boy emptied its meager contents on the table.

Aramis patted D'Artagnan's arm, "Good lad," he said encouragingly, taking a seat by D'Artagnan's side. He smiled broadly has he filled D'Artagnan's cup again.

A deep sigh came from the table next to them. Athos, leaning back in his seat, hat pulled low was shaking his head, "D'Artagnan, have you seriously learned nothing," he said flatly. D'Artagnan opened his mouth to answer, but Porthos jumped in first. He was not about to let Athos spoil this.

"Hey! Hush," Porthos waved off Athos's words, "He's learned plenty! He's won more than he's lost lately," and it was true. Enough playing with Porthos and D'Artagnan really could hold his own in a card game, most times at least. He still got overly excited though when he was doing well, and his emotions betrayed him to more seasoned players. "You stay out of this," Porthos gave Athos a pointed look. Athos shrugged and turned his attention back to his cup.

Porthos dealt five cards to himself and D'Artagnan and placed the remainder of the deck on the table. He flipped the top card. Seven of spades.

"You have to beat that," he said to D'Artagnan. D'Artagnan looked at his hand and played his highest card. A Jack of diamonds.

Porthos played a King of clubs. "Can you beat that?" he asked. D'Artagnan shook his head. "That round's mine," Porthos said, sweeping the cards into a pile. He tapped a finger by his pile of livre, and D'Artagnan pushed a coin toward him, biting his lip.

Porthos dealt them each another card and then flipped the three of hearts. He looked at his own hand and played a nine of hearts. "Ok, now beat that one."

"This is ridiculous," D'Artagnan protested, "it's just luck of who has the highest card in their hand."

"Sssh, wait," Aramis hushed him, looking over D'Artagnan's shoulder at his hand of cards. He tapped one, "Play that," he said.

"But that's not higher," D'Artagnan said, looking at Aramis as if he'd lost his mind.

"Trust me," Aramis silently mouthed with a wink.

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes, but slipped the card from his hand and flung it to the table. A four of hearts.

"Good play," Porthos, said nodding and looking impressed, "Three hearts on the table. That's a Lover's Bower. Tough to play out of that," he said, pondering his cards and stroking his beard. He furrowed his brow and then played a five of hearts. "Best I've got," he said shaking his head.

D'Artagnan looked at the cards in his hand and pointed to one with a quizzical look to Aramis, who nodded approvingly. D'Artagnan laid down an eight of hearts.

"Damn," Porthos said, slapping his hand on the table. "That's yours," he flashed D'Artagnan a look of begrudging admiration and tossed a livre into his pile. D'Artagnan smiled up at Aramis and raised his glass in thanks as Porthos swept up the cards and their hands and dealt again.

The play progressed more rapidly. A five of spades on the table. D'Artagnan played a seven of clubs, and Porthos followed with a jack of hearts. Smugly, D'Artagnan dropped a King of diamonds. Porthos grunted and pushed another coin to D'Artagnan. They played another round that turned into a Lover's Bower and D'Artagnan won that too, with a Jack of hearts. Aramis filled D'Artagnan's glass and again toasted his victory while Porthos swept the cards for the next deal.

They exchanged cards again, and but this time three black cards ended up on the table, the highest being D'Artagnan's play of the king of spades.

"Ah!" Porthos exclaimed, "Devil's Snare! That's not good for you at all."

"It's not?" D'Artagnan looked at Aramis in confirmation. The musketeer shook his head in affirmation and released a defeated sigh. D'Artagnan furrowed his brow, "So now what?"

"Well," Porthos said, narrating his actions, "I get to draw three cards. Then I get to take this King, which is the highest black card on the table, and replace it with this three of clubs, which is my lowest black card. Then you," he looked at D'Artagnan, "discard all of your cards that are higher than seven," he paused to wait for D'Artagnan to do so, and the boy was left with just one card held up before him. "Now, is the card you have left black?"

"No," D'Artagnan said through tight lips.

"My round then," Porthos said with a pleased smile. He made a little gesture with his hand, urging D'Artagnan to pass another coin. Porthos pulled all the cards together and dealt again.

They flipped more cards and this time Porthos played into the Devil's Snare.

"Ha!" D'Artagnan exclaimed, with a smug smile. He drew cards and then picked up the highest card, a ten of spades, and replaced it with a two of clubs.

"Oh, this is not good," Porthos shook his head, starting to discard, "Oh, and look at that!"

"What?" D'Artagnan leaned forward.

"It's a deuce in the snare . . . that means the bet is doubled," Porthos said, some concern leaching into his voice.

"Nice play, D'Artagnan," Aramis said with a broad smile. "Looks like your Gascon luck is coming to your aid as usual," and they drank to that. D'Artagnan was getting a nice rosy flush to his cheeks from all of the wine.

Porthos drew and then discarded down to one card, but suddenly he smiled,

"Well hello lovely," he cooed, and played a two of hearts.

"You can't play that," D'Artagnan complained, "it doesn't match."

"It matches the other deuce," Porthos said matter-of -factly, "Now you have to beat that."

"Well I can beat a two," D'Artagnan said, playing a seven of diamonds. Porthos played a two of diamonds.

"Lover's Bower!" Aramis exclaimed. Porthos and D'Artagnan rapidly dropped cards back and forth until D'Artagnan played an Ace of diamonds.

"Ha!" he laughed, knowing it was the highest card in the suit, "that's mine! And the bet's doubled!"

"Good play," Porthos said with a raised eyebrow, "But not so fast," Porthos turned over a card lying beside him and played it on the ace. It was the king of spades he had won earlier. "King's Court – always wins in a Bower," Porthos said almost apologetically.

"You kept that from before," D'Artagnan accused.

"Of course I did," Porthos replied earnestly.

"Always keep your kings, D'Artagnan," Aramis intoned solemnly beside him.

"Now you tell me," D'Artagnan shot Aramis a betrayed look and counted out two coins to Porthos.

"Umm…It's four" Porthos said.

"Why?" D'Artagnan asked incredulously.

"Well, there are three deuces so the bet doubled again . . .," Porthos trailed off with a little shrug.

D'Artagnan sighed and counted out the coins. He only had eight left.

Porthos dealt. They played cards quickly into two Lover's Bowers, D'Artagnan won a king, and set it aside with a reassuring nod from Aramis. Then a Devils' Snare but Porthos played out and into another deuce. D'Artagnan played a ten of spades and Porthos matched with a ten of diamonds.

"Oh dear," Aramis winced behind him.

"Now what?" D'Artagnan asked bewildered.

"Gentlemen's Duel," Porthos said shaking his head. He dealt ten more cards to each of them, then laid three from his hand face down and turned up the fourth. It was an eight of spades. "Now, you," Porthos said to D'Artagnan. He followed Porthos action and his last card was a Jack of hearts.

"I win!" D'Artagnan exclaimed.

"Well you would have if we hadn't been in a Gentlemen's Duel," Porthos explained, "That jack is called an Old Soldier and those never win. I take three cards from you and one coin" and Porthos picked up the face down cards on D'Artagnan's side of the table and plucked on coin from his pile.

D'Artagnan held his hands out in a gesture of confusion or supplication. Porthos felt a smile playing on his lips. The poor lad was lost as usual.

"Wait!" D'Artagnan raised a hand and slapped it down on a card lying beside him at the table. He turned it face up. King of Hearts. "Ha! King's Court! Doubled!" he said, pointing to the deuces up in the hand.

"Ooooh. Ouch," Porthos winced. D'Artagnan chuckled and reached out to clean up the cards but Porthos stayed his hand, "Not so quickly, my friend. I'm afraid you just opened yourself up for this," and Porthos played a queen of spades.

"What's that?" D'Artagnan said, eyes wide.

"Well the game is called Queen's Delight," Porthos said with a knowing grin, "No King's Court can resist her," D'Artagnan sighed in exasperation. "That's six coins," Porthos said, extending his hand.

"Six! Why?" D'Artagnan challenged.

"Because the Lady demands it. Queens take all but the last coin in your pocket," Aramis said with a sympathetic squeeze of the young man's soldier.

"Knight's Mercy," Porthos said grimly, "Rules say I have to leave you with one coin to drown your sorrows," Porthos smiled and flipped D'Artagnan a coin from his pile, before scooping up all the rest.

Aramis looked down fondly at the flabbergasted young man, and smiled reassuringly, "You did really well D'Artagnan. No one wins the first time. Here," he said, reaching into his doublet and handing D'Artagnan another coin, "Get us some more wine and I'll spot you for another round. I think you are getting the hang of this." D'Artagnan straightened up at Aramis's words and the offer to spot him. Just as Porthos had anticipated, the praise bolstered D'Artagnan's confidence and sparked his taste for competition.

"I'm in," D'Artagnan glared at Porthos. The Gascon pushed back his chair and stood, "I'll be back with the wine, you deal," he strode off to the front of the tavern.

As soon as he was out of ear shot the two friends burst into laughter, Aramis half collapsing on Porthos's shoulder.

"The look on his face when you said six coins!" Aramis laughed.

"How 'bout you with _the Lady demands it_ " Porthos howled, "and _always keep your kings_ " Porthos said in mock solemnity.

"Where did Gentlemen's Duel come from?" Aramis said with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't know," Porthos was smug, "I was just inspired. That boy's confusion is priceless. Worth all the effort even if I didn't end up with the coin too. I'm going to have to buy him dinner this week, he's broke."

"You better let him win a little back," Aramis said with a sympathetic smile, "He's usually such sharp lad. Funny to see him so befuddled."

"He is not befuddled," Athos's low voice came from the chair at the next table, "He's loyal." Porthos and Aramis exchanged a confused look. Athos tipped his chair forward and stood, stepping up next to their table. He cocked his head to peer at Porthos and Aramis from under the brim of his hat, an inscrutable look on his face.

"Perhaps when D'Artagnan first joined us he was easily confused at cards, and yes, there was fun to be had at the boy's expense about so many things that confounded him about his new life in Paris. But not tonight. Tonight his heart did him in," Athos raised his eyebrows and his tone softened, "He trusts you," Athos said quietly. Athos turned his eyes to Aramis, "He plays the cards you tell him to without hesitation," then he fixed an eye on Porthos, "And obeys the rules you make up without question. Isn't this exactly what you are teaching him to do in battle?" Porthos and Aramis exchanged a guilty glance. When Porthos returned his attention to Athos, he was surprised at the tenderness of his expression.

"He believes in you with so much faith, that he can't believe you would do anything to bring him to any harm," Athos's voice was tinged with deep emotion, "Do not underestimate his intelligence just because you underestimated his heart."

Aramis hung his head and Porthos shifted to quietly start picking up the cards. The words stung but they could not be denied. Porthos considered that perhaps, once again, he and Aramis had taken a prank too far. His brooding was interrupted by a cheerful voice.

"Alright, gentlemen, let's start round two," D'Artagnan said with determination and a confident smile as he returned to the table.

Aramis gave Porthos a questioning glance and Porthos knew what he was asking. With the smallest of nods he signaled his agreement and Aramis took the wine bottle from D'Artagnan and gave him a warm smile. Porthos sighed and scooped up most of the coins on the table, pouring them into D'Artagnan's empty hands.

D'Artagnan looked stunned, true confusion playing across his face. Porthos was not known to show mercy after a card came. Aramis gently pressed his young fried into a chair, "We've decided to teach you the secret of Queen's Delight," he said pulling up his own chair and sitting next to D'Artagnan.

"It all starts with one rule, a willing partner, and a plan to create the most ridiculous card game you can think of," Porthos said seriously, "And this is how we did it." As they started to explain their improvisational tactics to D'Artagnan, Porthos noticed Athos slip back to his chair at the next table, a soft approving smile playing on his face.

D'Artagnan seemed to hang on their every word as if they were sharing their deepest secrets. And perhaps they were Porthos thought. Befuddling a criminal during an interrogation or mixing up the enemy with false information were just more productive applications of the tactics they had employed in creating their mystifying card game. It took trust in each other to firmly believe that one would follow the other's lead. No matter what Porthos said, he had faith that Aramis would support it, and vice versa. Actually, it was something that happened between all three of them. The faith that let them know they had a brother at their back in a fight, sustained them through any other situation - even cheating at cards.

Porthos enjoyed watching the dawn of comprehension bloom in D'Artagnan's eyes as he began to understand how they had manipulated him. The lad really was bright. Porthos considered his young friend with a critical eye. There was a lot of potential here for a whole new level of conspiracy - and profit. If they could marshal the power of those sincere brown eyes and that youthful, innocent face they could run any card game in Paris. No one would suspect a farm boy with a Gascony accent. Porthos smiled to himself. Life with D'Artagnan in their midst just kept improving. Three deuces in the Bower for the Masters of Confusion!

* * *

 _A/N: This story is an entry to the September Fete des Mousquetaires contest with the theme Confusion. Check out the forum for all of the competition stories, then please vote for your favorites at the end of the month. Special thanks to Issai for keeping me on the straight and narrow. The mistakes are all mine, the characters, unfortunately, are not._


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